Two Good Eyes
by zandra-x
Summary: A different ending for Hell's Bells.


**TWO GOOD EYES  
**

He was awake. There was something wrong with his left arm. It didn't hurt but it felt numb. He looked over to his left and saw that the head of the person he was sharing the bed with was holding his arm down. What was her name, Laurie? Kim? Something? He pulled it from under her, none too gently, and slipped out of bed. He had to pee. As he headed toward the bathroom he picked up his pants from the floor; the naked part of this relationship was over. He was glad to see a couple of open condom wrappers on the floor too; at least he wasn't a complete idiot.

He took his time in the bathroom. Filling the sink with hot water, he splashed his face again and again trying to reconcile himself to the day. His head ached but not as much as probably deserved. He looked in the mirror and saw the same unmarried face he saw the day before. He remembered the almost wedding, the crying bride, the slunk away groom. He remembered coming to this hotel room. And then, he went out to get drunk. Well, that was one thing he did seem to accomplish yesterday. Made a new little buddy, too. He gave the shower a longing glance before he went back to the bedroom. Later, he thought, you and me are going to spend some serious time together.

The girl was awake and almost dressed when he came back into the room. She was shoeless and her blouse was still unbuttoned and her eye make-up was in odd places on her face. He had an urge to tell about waterproof mascara, something he learned about from Cordelia. But before he could think how to bring up the subject, she slipped past him with a small "hi" and went into the other room.

While she was in there, he opened the window and cleared away some of last night's debris into the wastebasket. He picked up his white dress shirt, the starch just about beaten out of it, and put it on. When the girl came back into the room her face was scrubbed clean and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. They stood facing each other a moment before Xander said, "Would you like some coffee? I don't know if this is the kind of place that does room service (so far, in his life, he'd only seen that in movies), but maybe I could talk somebody into going to the nearest Starbucks. Gotta be one around. Or, I could go myself."

"No, thanks. I should go." He remembered then that he liked her voice; it was sweet and clear. Again, they stood in silence; her eyes were on the floor. Then she said, "You promised me 50 bucks."

"I did?" he said, not that he doubted it, but he couldn't recall. "Sure, okay." He grabbed his coat and searched for his wallet.

She said all in a rush, "I don't do this for a living, I just need the money; you were cute." Then she added. "And I was drunk."

He opened his billfold, thinking that any half competent hooker would have emptied it and left him passed out hours ago. He found himself saying, meanly, "The trick, excuse the expression, is not to get drunk."

She looked straight at him. "I don't do this for a living." The words sounded brittle, not hurt, so she must have had conversations like this before.

He handed her a hundred dollar bill, out of his honeymoon money, and said, "Hey, sorry, I didn't mean anything. Take this. Really, no problem." He kept himself from saying "keep the change". He threw the wallet on the desk, knowing he very much wanted her to go now; his empty hands balled into fists to keep himself from pushing her towards the door. He tried to smile at her but his impatience must have flickered across his face because she slipped into her shoes, put the money in her purse and grabbed her jacket in quick, smooth motions. She didn't hesitate at the door, just flung a quick, i okay, bye /i at him and closed it with a snap behind her.

He went to take his shower and only after standing under the hot water for ten minutes did it come to him that the girl's name was Jeanine.

**Chapter II**

Wrapped in a not quite big enough towel around his waist, he was stretched out on the bed, on top of the bedspread. The housekeeper had come in while he was shaving; he'd cracked open the door and told her the bed needed changing but the bathroom would be okay. That caused a little confusion but luckily both their Spanglish was up to it. Now he was lying down, reluctant to put on yesterday's clothes; they reeked too much of failure and sweat. His eyes followed the cracks in the ceiling, thinking that instead of introducing Anya to the wonders of Disneyland as he should be doing today, he was concerned about scoring some clean underwear. Yeah, he thought, that's sounds about right for Xander's life.

He swung his legs to the floor and sat up. He couldn't face going back to his place. He'd drive to the mall and pick up a few things. It was something to do; he'd do some serious thinking about his situation when he got back. Right now he was going to give Target a bit of class and do some shopping in tuxedo pants.

When he came back from the mall he upturned his shopping bags over the bed, ripped all the wrappings and tags from the things he bought and stowed everything away. Keeping this shabby room in a run-down hotel neat gave him a sense of being in control.

He knew he should be calling people about...things. Talking about what happened, what would happen next. But he also stopped at the liquor store on his way home. Bourbon and a paperback with an alien world with three suns on the cover (now _there's_ a good place for vampires, he thought, when he picked it up at the bookstore) were the plan for that night. He'd explain himself tomorrow. And he wanted to make sure he didn't go out, dragging some semi-pro back with him. This room had become his fortress of solitude.

Several more tomorrows came and went before he telephoned anybody. He did the easy one first, his parents. It went pretty much as he expected. His mom answered, he had to identify himself by name, then she launched into telling him why his father blamed her for everything. Xander let her go on for a while, until finally breaking in and saying, "Yeah, it turned into a mess. Sorry. I don't think I'll be back for a while. I'll call when I know where I'm going to be. Sorry about everything. It was all my fault. I'll call you."

The job phone call was next. He wasn't due back for another week, but he wanted to ask if there was a chance to land a job at another site, in LA or even another state. Some of the guys had been at the wedding fiasco, and he was sure, passed the story around while. Nothing like sharing some good gossip waiting in line at the "roach coach", so he was sure he wouldn't have to explain why he wanted out. He got some good prospects out of his sympathetic twice-divorced boss. Xander thanked him and got to hang up after listening for ten minutes to the guy's analysis of marriage, and why it's hell on earth.

Xander rewarded himself with a beer after that.

He told himself he needed lunch and maybe a good, long walk next. Something to get himself out of the room. But he knew it was mostly because he was dreading making that next call. The one to Willow.

A few hours later he worked himself up to it. And got the answering machine. He listened to Willow's voice telling him to leave a message and wavered. The beep sounded and he hesitated a few seconds, then said, "Willow? It's me. Xander. I'm okay..."

"Xander? Xander?" Willow interrupted him, her voice fading in and out as though she were doing a juggling act with the phone.

"Yeah, it's me. You okay?"

"Uh-huh, good, where are you?"

"At a cheap hotel, somewhere out of Sunnydale. How's...well, everybody?"

"Anya's okay, I guess that's who you mean. Well, she isn't okay; she crying a lot and all. Tara keeps trying to get her to drink some herb tea to sooth her." Willow stopped talking and Xander could picture her face as she was deciding what to say next. He just waited. "When're you coming home?"

Ah, the big question. "I'm not," he said, "I'm not coming back to Sunnydale. That's what I called to say. I lined up a job up north. I want you to tell Anya that everything in the apartment is hers."

"What? You live here; you have to come back."

"Willow, there's nothing there for me. What, I should torment Anya by hanging around, reminding her what a loser she picked?"

"You could patch things up; you told me you really loved her." She paused and Xander could almost see that tiny forehead wrinkle that always formed on her I-don't-get-it face. "It was just a fight. It happens. She said you told her you had a vision or something. It was just nerves."

"No, it wasn't really that. I don't trust myself enough. I don't trust us, Anya and me together." There were things he didn't say, the words just floating around in his brain, never touching solid ground. I_'m tired, Willow. I feel like I'm losing ground. That maybe Anya won't be enough for me to hold on to. I feel like I can see what's coming. I don't know if I can stop it._ But these were thoughts Xander didn't really have the words to say, not even after the long days alone, going over things.

"So you're just leaving.?"

"Yeah, I think so. Yeah."

"Um, who does that remind me of? Wait, wait, don't tell me. Oh that's right. Oz. "

"Willow." he said, twenty years of friendship in the word. Then after a moment said, "Tell Buffy..."

"First Giles and now you," she interrupted.

"She'll be all right. You'll all be all right," he went on. "Look, I have to go. I'll call you when I get settled. I love you." He hung up before she could answer.

So that was that. All ties maybe not cut but left with a lot of slack in them. Time to hit the road north, taking his new wardrobe, a car trunk holding his semi-complete set of carpenter's tools, and the little gray cloud of failure over his head.

**Chapter III**

The next morning Xander was on the road by nine. He pulled off the freeway about an hour later for breakfast at a Denny's. The place seemed to be in the slack period between two meals; he told the hostess 'just one' before she could ask but she led him to a booth near the window. He sat turning a packet of phony sugar over and over, hitting the edge of it on the table, thinking of nothing, as he waited for his sausage and eggs.

Back behind the wheel, he meant to drive straight through until it got dark or he got tired. But as he got closer to Los Angeles, he thought of one more goodbye he could make. He hadn't seen Cordelia since graduation and in the back of his mind he wondered if looking in her eyes again, he could see the person he used to be. The hopeful, not-scared-of-the-future Xander.

He stopped at a gas station to phone the hotel. Cordelia answered; Xander smiled into the receiver at the professional voice. "Angel Investigations. We help the helpless."

"Hey Cordelia, it's Xander. I'm in town and wonder if I can stop by. You going to be in?"

"Xander!" Cordelia sounded more like herself again. "No kidding, you're here? Yeah, come over, we'll be in all day. You know, unless we get an emergency demon call"

"Great, I was afraid you'd be keeping vampire hours and I'd miss you. I'm just passing through. Give me directions."

After they pinned down where he was and how to make his way to the office from there, Xander got back into the car and headed over. The Hyperion impressed him, more than he'd admit to himself. His idea of private detective, which was pretty much what Angel was, was formed by old TV shows. He thought the office would be two rooms overlooking an alley. Trust Angel to have the Taj Mahal of offices.

Cordelia was at her desk and looked up as he came through the door. She ran up to him, arms outstretched, flashing her trademark big smile. He didn't remember her ever being this glad to see him when they were dating. She enveloped in a hug and the good smell of her came back to him. Pulling away she said, "Oh god, it's so great to see you. Still alive and in one piece and everything."

"You, too. LA agrees with you. You look outstanding."

"Thanks, well, I don't get to work on my tan as much as I like. Too many working nights, you know. But what about you, didn't I hear you were getting married?"

Still the same Cordelia, pushing right on the sore spot. "That was called off on account of me."

Cordelia said, "Oh" and nodded as if it wasn't unexpected.

Xander went on, "So I thought I'd put some miles between me and Sunnydale. It's kind of a hard luck place."

"Tell me about it."

He didn't say that most of the thinking he'd done in the anonymous room he'd just left was about dead people: Jessie, Jenny Calendar, Snyder, The Mayor, even Buffy. Should somebody like him, somebody ordinary, know so many dead people? He said abruptly, "I had a vision. Of the future. I could see what would happen to Anya and me. I hear you get them, too. Visions."

"I do. But they're about people Angel should help. Right now." She'd slipped her arm around his and they were moving back toward the counter. "My visions aren't about me. I guess I should be grateful for that. Did you get a really bad headache, after?"

"No, no headache," he said. Just the life train falling off the tracks.

"Well, that's good, at least. So, what are you going to do now?"

"I've got a job around Portland. More like a good promise of a job. I just need some time..." Xander's voice trailed off and he turned around with a jerk.

Angel was standing a few feet behind him. "Xander. Is Buffy all right? Did she send you?"

"She's fine. Adjusting to being alive again. She didn't send me; I'm leaving Sunnydale. I'm out of the sidekick business". He gave a small sideward nod. "I'm just here to say hi to Cordelia."

"Oh. Good. You're welcome to stay. There's plenty of room."

Xander felt himself take a small backward step without really deciding to. "No, thanks for the offer but I'm on a schedule. New job and things."

"You sure you don't want to see how we fight demons in the big city?' Cordelia asked.

"No, I'm like what they do to bad TV series; I'm on hiatus. No demon fighting for a while."

Angel looked at him. "Buffy's okay with this?"

"I didn't really ask her."

"She's probably used to having you around." Xander thought Angel looked confused about why that was. "It's your fight, too...Like they say,'all that's necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing'".

Xander felt his jaw muscles tighten but he kept his voice easy as he said, "I don't think I'll be taking staying on the straight and narrow lessons from you, but thanks anyway."

Angel looked sheepish, like he'd been caught looking at porn on the internet. "Yeah, I'm probably not the guy to offer advice."

"Well, that didn't take long to get awkward." Xander said in a mock hearty voice. "I should be on my way. Cordy, I'll write and let you know where I land up." He wrapped his arms around her in a hug and whispered, "Stay safe," in her ear.

"You, too," she said.

Letting her go, he nodded in Angel's general direction and said, "Angel," then turned to leave. As he walked back to his car, he decided he probably wouldn't stay too long in Portland. Maybe this was the time to take that trip he failed at after high school. Move around. No ties. See something of the country. Except maybe not Cleveland. No, definitely not another Hellmouth. No Cleveland.

**THE END **


End file.
